old.’
‘Such an awful thing to happen.’ Sarah Cooper leaned forward in her seat, exposing a cavernous expanse of freckled cleavage, blue silk blouse stretched tight across her swollen belly and massive breasts. Her pork-sausage fingers traced a circle on her short black skirt, the nails as scarlet as her lips. ‘I can only imagine what poor Alison must be going through…’
Rennie did his mirror thing again. ‘Can you tell us where you were last Wednesday night, Thursday morning?’
She blushed, looked away. Pink cheeks clashing with her Irn-Bru-orange hair. ‘To lose a child like that…’
Logan checked his watch. Half-eleven already and they’d only seen four people on the list. If the other teams were going at this rate it was going to take at least another three days to get through everyone on the Sex Offenders’ Register. Assuming DI Ingram and the Diddymen could track them all down. And it was getting hot in here, making his arm itch beneath the wadding. ‘You didn’t answer Constable Rennie’s question, Ms Cooper. Where were you the night Alison and Jenny were snatched?’
Not that she could have had anything to do with it. Her backside was far too large to fit in an SOC suit. Hell, it barely fitted in her seat: if she got up too quickly, she’d be wearing the thing as a bum warmer.
‘I was … with a friend.’ She shifted her buttocks, making the chair creak.
Logan smiled at her. ‘Whom?’
‘I don’t see how that’s any business of-’
‘It’s OK, Sarah,’ Rennie shifted in his seat, arranging himself in a perfect reflection, ‘we just need to eliminate you from our enquiries. You want to help us catch whoever hurt Jenny, don’t you?’
The blush deepened. ‘I… I read all about them, you know. When
‘We need a name, Ms Cooper. And an address.’
‘I don’t…’ She ran a hand across her neck, sweat glistened in the crevasse between her breasts.
‘Where were you?’
‘Come on Sarah, you can tell us.’
Another wipe of cleavage. ‘Can I have a glass of water or something, it’s very hot in here.’
‘Might as well get it off your chest.’
Her eyes flickered across the room. The door, the window, the bathroom. ‘I… I was babysitting.’ Both hands clenched in her lap. ‘A friend of a friend asked if I could watch her little boys. I didn’t touch them, if that’s what you’re thinking. I didn’t do anything. I just watched them. Nothing happened.’
‘…would
Logan hung his jacket on the hook in the bathroom, took off his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt. The wadding taped to the top of his left arm almost glowed, it was so white. He peeled back a corner and grimaced. Skin was still all red and inflamed — so much for ‘it won’t hurt a bit’.
He dug a little tube of antibacterial gel from his jacket pocket, squeezed some into his palm and smoothed it on. Trying not to wince. At least it didn’t look-
A knock at the door.
‘Sarge?’ It was Rennie. ‘Next one’s here.’
‘“I want to dedicate this to my husband John; you’ll always be our hero…” I mean, who was she trying to kid? Like rainbows and puppies come out of her arse instead of shite like the rest of us.’ Sniff.
Alastair McMillan leant forward, and tapped a dirty, chewed fingernail against Logan’s knee. ‘She fucking deserves everything she’s got coming to her, know what I mean?’
‘You have very pretty eyes, Constable…’
‘…shouldn’t really be surprised, should we? There are some very sick people out there.’ Shona Wallace flicked a strand of bleached blonde hair out of her eyes. She shrugged, bony shoulders rising and falling beneath her LITTLE MISS NAUGHTY T-shirt. ‘I mean, it’s like, you know, you stand up and do anything in this country and the weirdoes just latch onto you, don’t they?’
She smiled, her weak chin disappearing into the pale skin of her neck. The kind of girl-next-door you didn’t want living anywhere near you. ‘Oh: do you remember that woman? What was her name, you know, like, she was this big ugly heifer and she was saying all these horrible things about Alison? In the papers and that?’
Rennie nodded. ‘Vicious Vikki?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. God, what a cow. Jealousy, that’s all it is. Me I thought Alison and Jenny were the best thing on
She scooted forward in her seat, until her knees were nearly touching Rennie’s, blue eyes wide, a heavy layer of mascara making them look even bigger. ‘What’s her house really like inside? Is it cool? I bet it’s cool. Bet they hid away all the really cool stuff when they got the cameramen round, you know, for the
‘Bloody awful, that’s how it’s going.’ Logan slumped into one of the chairs arranged around the long meeting table. ‘What’s happening about lunch?’
Right on cue, PC Guthrie backed into the room, carrying a cardboard box. The smell of fresh baking oozed out to fill the room. ‘Get them while they’re hot.’
Steel sniffed. ‘You took your time.’
The box went on the table. ‘Fourteen steak, six mince, four macaroni, four cheese and onion pasties, and a dozen sausage rolls.’
‘Where’s my change?’
‘And about a million packets of tomato sauce.’ Guthrie dug a hand into his pocket and produced a mound of coins. They rattled on the tabletop.
The interview team swarmed around the box, pulling out grease-spotted paper bags, checking the contents, and passing on anything they didn’t fancy.
Logan rubbed his fingertips against his eyelids, trying to massage the grit away. ‘Lots of rumours about Jenny being available for a price, but no one knows who’s selling. Or they’re not saying.’
Rennie appeared with a pair of paper bags, the green-and-gold Chalmers of Bucksburn logo going slightly transparent. ‘Macaroni pie, or cheese and onion pasty?’
‘Cheese and onion.’ He took the proffered bag and scrunched it down around the golden flaky pastry like a makeshift napkin. ‘I mean, what are we supposed to do? No one’s going to stick their hand up and admit to kidnapping and murder, are they?’
Steel shrugged, then took a dainty bite out of her pie and chewed. ‘Early days, Laz. Got a lot more perverts to get through.’
‘Yeah, and at the rate we’re going it’ll take us three and a half days, minimum.’
